


Howling

by SunlitGarden



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Haunted House, Haunted Houses, Injury, Sexual Tension, scare gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: Jughead's working a shift at the Blossom haunted house when he spots a familiar blonde ponytail and decides to try and give her a scare. He ends up smashed in the face, real blood added to his costume. Horrified, Betty tries to make it up to him. She's nervous to finish the house by herself, so Jughead offers to let her work on a few scenes and scares with him until Archie comes back from his break. There's nothing quite like method acting with a childhood crush and best friend when hearts are pounding and limbs are entangled in a ravenous display. Something's building inside of them, a low, penetrating howl.





	Howling

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to shrugheadjonesthethird for an amazing aesthetic! A Halloween challenge found on[ tumblr ](https://paperlesscrown.tumblr.com/post/179264667278/i-need-a-fic-where-betty-gets-dragged-to-a-haunted) from @kmlefev and @paperlesscrown. I hope you enjoy a little Bughead treat ^-^

Some shrieks and incoherent gurgles are more recognizable than others. Kevin’s “ _Oh my god!”_ is, as he would say, _iconic_. Peering out from his perch in the haunted hallway, Jughead catches a glimpse of Betty’s tall dramatic friend amidst a small group of guests. Nobody else he recognizes, nor cares about, except the particular ponytailed blonde he’s been adventuring with his whole life.

He probably shouldn’t.

The temptation, though.

Betty’s practically tip-toeing, the only silent one of the group as her eyes widen to take in everything in the room, reading every clue to try and prepare for what’s next. The next passage is only wide enough for one person at a time for a reason. Namely, to give them the opportunity to scare the shit out of guests. It would be a sin _not_ to scare her, to show off the insane makeup he’d managed on his own for once. Even if he is still generally recognizable from his ever-present beanie, it’s still an atypical werewolf persona. Cheryl had snidely commented his everyday apparel was scary enough, just unbutton his shirt and add a little hair and blood. Besides, Archie’s on yet another Blossom-sanctioned break and he’d give him _tons_ of flack for not at least _trying_ something on their third musketeer.

“Hello, little girl,” Jughead growls in the hungriest voice he can manage, one long fake talon daintily scratching up the back of her neck and into her hairline. If there weren’t soft limits on the _no touching_ rule, he’d probably give her ponytail a yank. Just a little one, put a little pep in her step.

Most people would shoot forward, _away_ from danger and into the safety of their partner. But Betty’s elbow swings back at him before the rest of her knows where to jerk. He stumbles, the impact dizzying and crunchy and _wet_ before he catches eyes with the most startled ball of blonde he’s seen in their 15 years. The pain is almost secondary to the surprise.

“J—Juggie?!” she gasps, hands going up to her mouth. Her expression of horror only intensifies, green eyes getting rounder by the second.

“Do you greet all your scarers that way?” he asks, touching his face self-consciously. His fingers come back coated in something a little too dark to be the god-awful cherry mix the Blossoms have had them use for blood. “Shit.”

“I think I broke your nose,” she breathes, hands falling to her chest. Kevin, on the other hand, has already swept away to the next room amidst his continuous “ _ohmygods_ ,” away from danger and into the brain-dead zombie jock area. That one wasn’t as much of a minefield to navigate.

Still, he probably shouldn’t be just hanging _out of character_ in the hallway, so he dabs his face one more time and starts retreating back to his post to metaphorically lick his wounds.

“Let me take a look at that,” Betty insists, trying to squeeze into the cubby with him.

“Hey, I’m working. You can’t just—" Betty crawls all over him, rapidly increasing his heart rate. Basically straddling his lap, she takes a closer look. The white noise of malevolent laughter and angry violins seems oddly comforting in an attempt to get him to focus on anything _except_ the fierce girl staring intently at his nose or the pain still radiating just above his teeth. Her fingers swipe gently at the bow of his upper lip, sending weird tingling sensations down to his left foot.

“ _Hnn_ …so…do you think the blood’s improved my look or what?”

Betty’s lips quirk in a smile, and she sits back just the tiniest bit to take in more of his face. That _smile_ . _Fuck_ that smile. Making him feel all warm and giddy like a stupid schoolboy instead of whatever wolf-man hobo-thing they’re going for. An inside joke, according to Cheryl and Jason Blossom, the _organizers_ of this event and his unfortunate employers of the week.

Chuckling with nervous relief, Betty shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

He licks his lips, the combo of cherry fake stuff and real blood a horribly bitter mix. Her mouth is still perfectly pink under the dark lighting, untainted by blood, fake or otherwise. “I’m not sure whether or not to be offended.”

“You look great. Terrifying, in fact,” she assures him, raising her eyebrows in a way that’s _almost_ reassuring and _almost_ making fun of him.

“Scary enough to get punched in the face?”

“Elbowed, technically,” she amends, touching his nose distractedly one more time. The right nostril’s clogged with blood, but Betty’s on top of him in a small space so it’s hard for him to breathe anyway. “It looks like it’s not broken. So besides this, how’s it going? Where’s Archie?” she realizes, turning her head. Lately she’s gotten better about not looking for their gallant and gullible friend, about looking at _him_ instead. It’s not like he’s ever been much to look at though. The blood and extra hair probably hasn’t done much to improve what’s there.

“He’s off on break. Sorry we weren’t able to get Kevin too. And I’m sorry he missed _this_ ,” he gestures.

Betty’s eyes crinkle around the edges, practically _awwww-_ ing in a way that makes him want to bury his face in his ragged flannel shirt. “I’m really sorry.”

Clearing his throat, he rolls his eyes and leans back against the cubby in an attempt to look relaxed. “Don’t be. I’d probably hit me too. Mostly because of my face, even if you hadn’t seen it yet. Was it the voice? The talon?” he hooks his temporary fixing in her general direction.

The way her teeth worry her lip distracts him, his nail absently picking it free. Without even thinking about it, he knocks his knuckle against her chin, like it’s an access door to her mind.

“I…think it was the voice.”

Somewhat thrilled, he delves into its desperate lowness again. “Scary?”

“More like…unexpected,” she smiles, rubbing her shoulders. It’s not cold, but maybe she’s got a chill from the spooky atmosphere. His flannel’s considered a costume piece, otherwise he’d offer it to her.

“This is a haunted house, Betts. You have to expect the unexpected.”

“Well, it was unexpectedly sexy,” she shrugs at the floor, blonde ponytail dangling tantalizingly over her shoulder as the words sink into his chest.

_Sexy?_

Betty Cooper thought _his_ voice…was _sexy_?

“The talon thing took me by surprise too,” she adds absently, tracing the gloves on his hand like she’s trying to piece together how it all works.

Not sure how to respond, he clicks his fingers at her in a groping motion. _Clack-clack_ the talons chatter in the small hallway. Her grin is practically fluorescent in the backlight.

The squealing of Ethel’s witch from the room prior alerts him that the next group is bound to come in soon. Betty must sense it, because she sits back on her feet.

“A wolf-man’s duty is never done,” he bemoans, crawling behind the partition. “You ready to go see the rest of the feature? Protect Kevin?”

“But who will protect you?”

Good question. Clearly Archie’s out. “Let’s hope not all my guests are as fierce as you.” Her smile falters, fingers nervously picking at the sleeves of her shirt. There’s a little red stain on the fringes of it. “Hey, Betts, did you get some of my blood on your—"

Flinching, Betty pushes her palms against her jeans, where she leaves yet another red streak in the attempt to press into a smaller version of herself. Alice was going to kill her for stains. “Hey, it’s okay. Most of it’s probably this cherry corn starch mix. It stains the soul but comes out in cotton.”

Betty’s panicked gaze doesn’t seem relieved. Her palms flex, gaze darting hesitantly at the door, and he gets the impression that she really doesn’t want to go through the rest of this thing alone. He can identify the feeling.

“You, um…you wanna stay with me? Haunt some of our fellow man? You can always rejoin another group if you want to.”

Unknotting her fingers from her palms, Betty cautiously joins him in the dark alcove. “Okay. What do I do?”

“Would you rather be a victim or a wolf like me?”

“Both. Always both.” Betty’s eyes flash in the orange and red neon glow.

As it turns out, Betty’s a natural. She snaps at people’s ankles from the floor where they’re least expecting her, sending them scattering like marbles across the floor. She even suggests a narrative where Jughead drags her down the hall by the legs and fake-ravages her. _Fake,_ he reassures himself, never so much as placing his mouth on her skin, the bloody gobs from his nose threatening to drip on her pristine skin and clothes. But he tilts his head just enough that the guests can’t _see_ that part.

Not much of a screamer, her weight shifts in a dramatic struggle against him, low moans escaping her throat in her “desperate” attempt to escape. Pinning her back down with one knee, he projects. “Oh I’ll huff, and I’ll puff,” he growls in that _delicious_ voice she likes, and can’t help but bite the air right next to her ear. “And I’ll _eat_ …you…all up.”

The lightning effect goes off at the perfect time, their current group skittering amidst random pleas of _oh my gods_ reminiscent of Kevin. Jughead grins, leaning back to share the joke of his ridiculous line. But her expression is open, lips parted, and _fuck_ if she isn’t breathing heavy.

Part of him wants to ask if she’s okay. But another part wonders if the scene isn’t done yet.

It’s easier to be confident like this, to let his talons rake down the side of her neck. “Not much of a screamer, eh? When I’m done, you’ll be _howling_ for mercy, baby.”

_Baby? Had he lost his mind?_

Betty shifts, trapping his leg between her thighs. It takes his breath away for a second, his teeth instinctively snapping shut. Her neck arches towards him even as her eyebrow twitches in a challenge. “Maybe I’m all about the beast within.”

“Oooh,” he grins, absolutely in awe of this girl. Scratch that, this force of nature. She really _should_ be getting paid for this. Jughead pushes his body weight on top of her until their chests are flush and he can feel every breath in her. He bites playfully at her earlobe, pinning her arms and breathing on her neck in a way he _knows_ tickles her from many moonlight sleepovers when they were kids.

“Juggie,” she moans, writhing, and he thinks she’s had enough. No more games. No more sexy voice. Snapping back at his own name, her special nickname, he scrambles up on his knees. Before he can apologize or offer her a break, she shoves him over with her knees, rolling until she’s on top of him.

“Shit, Betts,” he gasps, palms up in surrender as she pins him to the floor.

“Told you I’m all about the beast within,” she grins, teeth glimmering over the strip of pink on her bottom lip.

Every muscle in his body feels like it’s clenching, ready to pounce, to recoil, to _spring_. His breath feels scratchy in his throat, the crusted blood scraping past with every passing exhale. “Looks like someone’s feeling brave.”

Her eyes glimmer at that, glancing down at his lips. For just a second, he considers arching his neck up, meeting her for a kiss. But the next group comes in, and Betty launches into character, pushing on his arms and trying to scramble over him. “No! No! N—"

“ _Ooooooooo_!” he howls, grabbing her leg and hauling back as she tries to crawl to the guests.

A throaty shouted bark makes _him_ jump, releasing Betty’s leg in surprise. Now that he’s experienced firsthand how much of a badass she is, part of him wants to let her lead the way. Still, he stalks to the hallway only to witness a chipper werewolf Archie chasing off the remaining guests. His best friend turns and grins at him breathlessly. “Back. Did you miss me?”

“ _No._ ”

“Oh! Hey, Arch. I’ve just been…filling in,” Betty flushes, stretching her shirt down over any potential lingering skin and floor burns. A tug rounds his lips as she tightens her ponytail, straightening the loose hairs from their exercise.

“Cool,” Archie grins. “You seen the zombies yet?”

She looks at the exhibit, shifting the edge of her sleeves into her palms again. “No, I was just enjoying the haunted hallway.”

“Betty’s all about the beast within,” Jughead supplies not-so-helpfully. He feels the sting of a glare on the back of his neck but ignores it in favor of breaking the glacier-sized tension he feels drifting in his stomach. “In fact, she unleashed it all over my face earlier.”

Amazed, Archie looks closer at the globs of blood on Jughead’s nose and bursts into peals of laughter. Torn between proud and embarrassed, Betty pushes a stray hair behind her ear. It’s all he can do to offer her a lopsided smile. “She thinks it improves my look 100%. I’d have to agree.”

“Juggie,” she chides, shaking her head.

Archie snags his contraband phone from his pocket and holds it up. “We have to get a picture. Come on.”

In between guests, they take pictures of each other in silly or scary situations. Feeling brave, Jughead pretends to bite Betty in a hug from behind. When Archie’s going through the photos, he thinks she looks pleased, but with all the roleplaying tonight he’d probably believe she likes wrestling too. Hell, he’d believe _he_ likes wrestling.

“I should get back,” she admits, wiping her palms on her jeans. No muddy streaks left behind this time. “Um, how do you get out?”

“Just go with the next crew,” Archie offers easily, shoving the phone back in his pocket and re-swooping his hair to make it wild and messy, presumably the way girls like it. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Archie loosens his neck to try and _get in character_. Jughead shakes his head and adds _aspiring method actor_ to the _musician/football/which girl should I date_ High School Musical drama that seems to follow Archie around.

Betty threads her fingers together, shifting her weight as she searches for exits. “If you don’t want to go with the next group, I can take you out on my break,” Jughead offers, since Archie clearly isn’t going to.

“No, it’s okay. I can go by myself,” she decides, straightening her ponytail and looking ahead. “Those monsters should be afraid of _me_ now.”

Amused, he gives her a nod. “All hail Betty the Vampire Slayer.”

Still, after the next scene, her hand laces into his and he finds himself shouting a haphazard excuse to Archie before joining her in the rest of the exhibit. “We can either take the employee exit and risk the ire of Blossom bosses for unauthorized access, or go through it like normal people where I prevent you from poking anyone’s eye out. What do you say?”

Betty squeezes his hand, and if he has to guess Morse code he’d say it meant go through normally. Well, he hopes so, because he’d hate to have worked all this time only to get fired with an hour left of his shift.

To keep her calm, he whispers little tidbits and fun facts about each room, grinning every time something jumps out at them. Betty goes wide-eyed and so instantly rigid and ready to pounce that he has to physically restrain her. Keeping their hands connected seems to be the safest way to go, for her and the other players. “Don’t want any more accidents,” he teases, hugging her tightly right before a Cthulu surprise attack room. When the tentacles and dismembered body parts drop from the ceiling, Betty whirls so fast into his shoulder that her ponytail slaps him across the chest. He can’t suppress the little disbelieving laugh, tucking his mouth against her ear to whisper, “I can’t believe you fell for that. You think it’s scary? I think this is funny.”

Glowering, Betty peeks up at him, and for a second he entertains the thought that maybe she’s not scared at all. Maybe she just likes having someone’s hand to hold. So he soothes her hair and holds her hand tightly and somehow they make it out alive without punching or kissing anybody, although his heart’s still hammering in his chest like he has.

“See? Not so bad,” he offers, clearing his throat, wondering if they should hug again. He really _wants_ to hug again.

“Thank you,” she smiles, breathing deeply as if she hasn’t felt fresh air in days. “I think I owe you some serious Halloween candy for getting through that with me.”

Grinning, he pushes his hips out in a lean. “Please. The Blossoms should be paying you for that epic performance. For a second there I actually thought you—“

“BETTY!” Both of them startle, dropping their linked hands. A wide-eyed Kevin with a giant salted caramel apple stalks towards them. “I have been waiting for you for twenty minutes! I thought you’d been kidnapped by some freak with a fetish.”

“Just Jughead,” she quips. The forced way she doesn’t meet his eyes makes it feel like a pointed jab. _Well done_ , he nods, fully aware that Kevin’s already brushed his very presence aside and is talking a million words a second.

Clearing his throat, Jughead gestures with his chin to the haunted house. “I should go back in. So many people to scare, so little time.”

Betty brushes her fingertips along his wrist. “Jug? I’ll meet you back here in an hour with some ice, okay?”

“Make it dippin-dots and we’ll talk.”

Feeling like just the slightest bit of a badass, Jughead swirls back into the haunted hallway. He doesn’t use _the_ voice, but he uses something similar. Whenever he thinks of Betty wrestling with him on the floor he breaks into a dangerous smile. _Method acting_ , he assures himself, feeling the rumble of something deep in his bones.

 

As promised, Betty sits prim and poised with her bag of ice, some dippin’ dots, and a first-aid kit at the employee exit. Free of Archie, who’s currently doing a photo op with the brain-dead jocks, Jughead eyes the over-prepared station. “Tragically, I think we’re going to have to do some reconstructive surgery. You know how it is, a wolf and his nose.”

“Are you still on about that?” she chides, dabbing a washcloth in some bottled water and gesturing for him to come closer.

“I’m method. Like Archie. _Awooooo_!”

A few answering hollers surprise them both.

“See? The pack calls for me.”

“A pack of _what?_ ” she smiles, wiping off fake and real blood alike. She makes a funny face at him, mouth curled down to further extend her upper lip, and he realizes he’s meant to mimic it.

“Betty, I thought you were possessed for a second. Bewitched and bewildered,” he muses, letting his face fall into the expression she desires.

Her washcloth dabs pointedly at his wounds. “Perhaps I am. Or was. I’m probably insane to come back here at all.”

“It wasn’t all bad.” It feels like he shouldn’t blink, shouldn’t miss this. Her fingers hold his chin in place. He watches with unfiltered interest as she cleans every last bit of grime from his face with the same careful consideration she offers when playing a board game. There shouldn’t be any surprises lurking under the layers of corn syrup and cherry juice, but she pauses long enough to make him think that maybe there are.

“No,” she says thoughtfully, “It wasn’t.”

The cool washcloth on his skin feels a little too much like the jolting sensation of waking up, so he jerks away at the last swab. “Okay. I’ve had enough abuse for one day.”

Mortified, Betty releases his chin. It’s almost enough to make him laugh. It’s so easy for everyone else to unapologetically take jabs at him. Jason. Cheryl. Reggie. But Betty only hurts him on accident, scrambling after herself to make him feel even better than before the original slight. Her recent interest in being the sounding board for his writing and joining him for milkshakes at Pop’s takes the sting away from memories of watching her whisper about boys in a booth with Kevin while Jughead sulked in the corner writing his manifestos. The allure of Archie is finally fading for her, and she seems to be settling into something more relaxed, open, and confident. Under her careful consideration, so is Jughead.

He’s probably staring too hard, smiling too much. This is nice. Weirdly, grossly, nice. Checking his face for last-minute adjustments, Betty leans forward and presses a quick kiss along the side of his nose. The flesh bruises underneath, sending that numbing, tingling feeling to this toes.

“What was that for?”

“Kiss and make it better,” she explains, still not quite meeting his eyes. “Anyway,” Betty starts to stand up, leaving the bag of frozen peas and dippin' dots at his feet.

“Wait—" His own voice surprises him, crawling on the ground like it’s waiting to strike. Betty stills, glancing at his hand clamped on her wrist. For one horrible moment he wonders if she’s going to throw him over her shoulder like an old-time kung-fu movie. “Are you...hungry?”

A lump the size of a caramel apple lodges in his throat.

Her eyes brighten, a smirk lighting up one side of her face. “Am I what?”

“Hungry,” he repeats, mouth dry, glancing at her lips, desperately willing himself to mean popcorn or candy or something other than exactly what he wants.

“I could eat,” she nods, watching him carefully.

“I’ll uh...I’ll get you something. For being such a nice victim.”

“Jughead Jones,” she teases, sidling up into his chest. Lost, he watches her, enraptured by the way her eyes darken the closer she gets. One finger pokes his nose tauntingly. “Did you forget? Who’s the victim of whom?”

“Betty…”

He’s not sure what voice he used, or where exactly on her back his talon-fingers are tightening, but he feels like falling. Giving in to the sensation, he closes his eyes and leans in. To his groaning surprise, so does she. Their mouths meet, plush, soft, and warm, reaching deep, like caramel spooling inside his body. It’s much better tasting than the cherry-maple fake blood they’re selling in stands. Probably better than any feeling in his life, surpassing the first bite of an extra-cheesy pizza. Fleshy. Savored. Betty opens her mouth, drawing what feels like a breathy smile, but he’s sinking so quickly into her that he swallows it up with another kiss.

The employee entrance creaks open with chatter, so he snaps his lips off hers. His entire body flushes red. It’s not like he wants half the town to see them making out in the middle of Pickens Park. Betty recovers admirably, scooping the frozen goods off the ground and pulling him away by the arm before he can even muster a sarcastic remark about eating face.

“What about Archie?” he manages when they’re already rounding the street to her house.

Confused, she stares, eyes glowing like the moon. “What about him?”

It’s not like he has something prepared for the day he wasn’t sure would ever come. “Uh...how is he going to get home?”

“He’ll manage,” Betty smiles obligingly, clasping her fingers between his gloved talons. They’re going back to the garage. Where there’s a couch. And privacy. And, looking at the bag of goodies, ice cream. Jughead eyes glaze over the curve of her muscles, the points of her fingernails, the giving pink mouth hiding her straight white teeth.

Something builds in him, and it feels like a howl.

**Author's Note:**

> For you people on tumblr who requested this kinda thing. I made it fluffy and cute but gosh darn there were almost some serious haunted house on-the-floor shenanigans! I mean, there still can be. The haunted house goes for a week so if anyone wants a sequel... *cough* What'd ya think? Kudos and comments and treats for you all! <3


End file.
